


Cold Dreams of Fire

by badskippy



Series: Bagginshield One-Offs [27]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Fear, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 08:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Thorin has nightmares ... Bilbo always takes care of him, even if nothing is ever said.





	Cold Dreams of Fire

* * *

 

 

It began at Beorn’s.

Bilbo had fallen asleep first.  Exhausted from days on the run and the final comfort of protection, both from Orcs and from the elements, Bilbo was driven to sleep as soon as the company settled in.  However, because he had more sleep, he was woke to take the mid-night watch; the Dwarves insisted on a watch even in the skin-changer’s home.

As he sat nearby, still tired but awake, Bilbo heard a noise.  Muffled as the sound was, Bilbo shrugged it off; wooden structures often made funny little noises and creaks.  But it soon changed and it was clearly made by a living thing.  One of the animals perhaps or a creature moving about in the shadows.  Yet, when he heard indistinct mumbling and moaning, he realized it was one of his companions.  

Moving silently among them, he found Thorin twitching and jerking in his sleep. _A bad dream or nightmare, perhaps._  Understandable after all that he’d been through with Azog and the White Warg; Bilbo could not blame the Dwarf.  But as he turned to resume his watch, Thorin whimpered and his moans turned to fearful murmurings.  Whatever Thorin was saying, Bilbo could only guess at as it was in Khuz-dul.  But he did not need words to know that Thorin was sliding into distress.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, giving the king a gentle shake.

Thorin did not wake.

“ _Thorin_ ,” Bilbo tried a bit louder and gave the Dwarf a harder push.

Thorin only shook more violently and sobbed.

“ _THORIN_ ,” Bilbo hissed loudly, near Thorin’s face.  

Thorin woke instantly, gasping and wide-eyed, pushing back away from Bilbo.  In the next second, Thorin's fear turned to anger.  “What do you want?!” Thorin snarled in a harsh whisper.

For a second, Bilbo’s instinct was to snap out a sassy reply but, in the next moment, it fled.  He could see that Thorin felt, not anger but, vulnerable and embarrassed.  Bilbo cleared his throat, saying, “Your ... blanket had fallen to one side and you ... seemed cold.”

It was a preposterous lie.  They both knew it.

Just as they both knew the real reason Bilbo had made to wake Thorin in the first place.

“I’m fine,” Thorin growled out, looking about them, obviously to see if anyone else had woke.

“Of course you are,” Bilbo said, softly but firmly.  He had no intention of coddling Thorin because he knew that Thorin would not desire to be coddled.  It was over and that was it.

Bilbo returned to his spot and made sure to avoid Thorin’s glaze, which he could feel staring at him.  Bilbo took out his pipe and what little pipeweed he had and sat there, calm and collected, as if nothing had happened.  it was several, long minutes before he felt safe and glanced over to see Thorin had fallen to sleep once more.

 

\---ooo---

 

From then on, Bilbo made a point to take the midnight watch.   _‘I enjoyed it’_ he insisted and tried to go to sleep early so that he could easily remain awake and watch over Thorin.

On those nights when he could _not_ be assured the midnight spot, he slept next to Thorin, who never commented or refused him space.  Bilbo’s sleep on those nights was light and not fulfilling but he quickly heard Thorin’s nightmares starting and, in time, all it took was Bilbo reaching out, laying a hand upon Thorin’s, to settle the Dwarf back into slumber.

And in the mornings, as they had a quick breakfast, Thorin would show, rather than say, his gratitude.

“Here,” Thorin thrust his half-finished meal at Bilbo.  It was Thorin’s way of saying,  _‘Thank you.’_

“Oh, that’s kind of you, but no,” Bilbo would say.  It was his way of saying,  _‘You don’t need to thank me.’_

Thorin would cock an eyebrow.  “I insist.  You haven’t the stamina that I do.’  But what Thorin meant was,  _‘You were awake because of me.  You need to recover your strength.’_

Bilbo would shrug, retorting, “So you say.”  It was his way of saying,  _‘I’m only glad to be of service.’_

And so their silent conversation continued.  Every morning.

 

\---ooo---

 

Bilbo never asked what Thorin dreamed of.  Not only did he consider it none of his business, but he did not have to wonder when he remembered all that Thorin had suffered and lost and struggled against, over and over and over, throughout his life.  Bilbo would have bad dreams just thinking of Thorin’s troubles, let alone live them.

And Bilbo believed Thorin’s nightmares would be better the more he tried to comfort Thorin.  But, sadly, he was wrong.  The dreams/nightmares only got worse the closer they got to the mountain. 

In the Elven forest the dreams were so bad Bilbo practically had to snuggle Thorin to keep him calm through the night.  If any of the others saw, and Bilbo would wager his last buttons that some did, they neither said nor apparently disapproved.  

When they were taken prisoner and Thorin held deeper and farther away from the others, Bilbo would sleep at night with his ring on, leaning against the bars of Thorin’s cell, holding Thorin’s hand through the night.  By this time, neither of them pretended any longer why Bilbo did it; it had become necessary and, frankly, welcomed.

They both slept better for it.

The only time the dreams stop was during their stay Erebor.  Thorin had no troubles in the night while he slept in the treasury, surrounded by gold, and consumed by greed.  Thorin’s fears were no match for the Gold-Sickness.

It was a pretty poor payment in Bilbo’s opinion, for quiet nights.

 

\---ooo---

 

The battle was over.

Thorin had come a long way in his healing but he still had a very, very long road ahead.  Yet Thorin had been well enough, and of sound mind enough, to announce that he was giving up the crown.  The company and Thorin’s cousin exploded.  

_How could you?_

_What are you thinking?_

_Have you lost your mind?  Again?!_

_No,_ Thorin had insisted.  But his sickness had shown that he was not fit to rule, he would not risk falling into madness again.  Fili and Kili had proven to be better than the sickness and were, thus, more than ready to take the crown.  The boys protested, but Thorin won in the end, with Dain agreeing to stay and be an advisor to the brothers.  Thorin had sworn he’d take back Erebor, and take it back he did.  He had saved it; for his people, for his family, and for his line.

But not for him.  

 _Where will you go?_  They all asked.   _What will you do?!_

Thorin only smiled.   _To the West,_ he said.  

Did they know then of his plan?  Probably.  But they said nothing about it and, actually, as a few chanced quick glances to Bilbo, Thorin’s answer seemed to settle them and there was no more argument.

Now, nearly a month and a half after the Battle of Five Armies, after the near deaths of his beloved nephews, the gold-sickness nothing but a dark memory, and the Crown of Erebor relinquished, Bilbo hoped that Thorin nightmares would end.

They were worse than ever.

Bilbo had kept vigil every night next to Thorin as he recovered.  And tonight, Thorin cried and sobbed and begged forgiveness in Westron.

“Thorin. Thorin,” Bilbo said, shaking Thorin awake.

Thorin gasped for air, sitting up straight in bed, tears on his cheeks and eyes wide with terror and pain.  “Bilbo!” Thorin stated through his sobs, clinging to Bilbo like a drowning man.

“It’s all right.  You’re safe.  You’re all right.”

Thorin shook his head.  “I’m sorry!”

“We all have nightmares.  You have no reason--”

“I almost killed you!”

Bilbo stilled.

“You ... my nephews ... my brother, my father ... my grandfather!  I failed you all!”

Bilbo shut his eyes.  This was what plagued Thorin?  This false sense that he was to blame for everything that had befallen his house?  His family?  Even Bilbo?  No, it was far too painful for Bilbo to hear but hear he would.

“I failed ... I failed them ... I failed you!”

Bilbo held Thorin tighter, closer.  And Thorin wrapped himself tighter about Bilbo, allowing the Hobbit to coddle him.  Bilbo slowly rocked Thorin and cradled Thorin’s head, hoping to make him feel safe and reassured, if only silently.  And to let him know that all was forgiven, that it was all right, that Bilbo was there and would always be there and there was no reason to be sorry.  

Or afraid.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin said, settling back on the healing cot and with no intention of going back to sleep.  “You must be tired and here I am, keeping you awake.”

Bilbo smiled.  “It’s fine,” he said, sighing as he settled next to Thorin.  “I had too much tea to drink anyway.”

 

 

 


End file.
